


Epilogues

by Candiedmothman



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Battle of New York (Marvel), Chaos, F/M, Gen, Major Character Injury, Sad Ending, Suicide mention, back at it again in Krispy Kreme, i love the ppl I write with for enabling me to emotionally hurt them with angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28584846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candiedmothman/pseuds/Candiedmothman
Summary: The world was ending in every color of the rainbow as the sky tore open and hell surged forth.
Kudos: 1





	Epilogues

The world was ending in every color of the rainbow as the sky tore open and hell surged forth. Looking up at the boiling heavens alight with otherworldly fire, the people that had merely been going about their days all stare in slack-jawed awe. Bright ribbons of Aurora Borealis wind across the sky with green and gold and blue serpentine glory while comets streak across the atmosphere like a cosmic firework show. Awe still held most of the Earth’s population in its rapt grip until the creatures began to pour forth from the wound in the sky. Leviathan’s curled their massive segmented bodies that glint in the crimson twilight of Earth down from the eternal blackness shrieking as the swarm followed. That’s when the screaming started, the spell broken and panic taking hold.

A building exploded in a shower of glass and steel as several aliens on silver speeders race through the narrow streets of downtown. One of the great Levithan creatures blotting out the sun while it writhes overhead, smashing its enormous tail into structures as it passes. Jean’s heart hammers in her chest to the point where it aches. White knuckles on the steering wheel are all that keep her truck on the road while chaos erupts around her. The screams and cries for help, both spoken and not, rattle around in the telepath’s head, causing a creeping blackness to encroach in on her vision from all sides. She is going to die. She is going to die, and there’s nothing she could do about it. 

Jean slams on the breaks just in time not to hit a car that’s thrown through an intersection, tumbling end over end and spiraling shrapnel across the asphalt. Whipping her head around to see the bus-sized alien that had thrown the car as if it was little more than a children’s toy, she feels her entire body seize up. Body a butcher’s block of ritualistic scarring and stitches, it looks as if several different creatures were sewn into one. Even it’s meaty arms that had so casually thrown the vehicle looked to be of two other animals. A thick slanted brow and a jewelers worth of metal piercings adorned the monstrosities face, all funneling down toward a gaping jagged toothed maw that hung open with savage glee. Chest puffing as it bellowed out some guttural war cry, Jean knew that it’s time to get the hell out of there. 

Wrenching the gear shift into reverse with a grinding protest from the farm truck that she’d taken into the city, Jean smashes her foot down on the gas. Jetting backward from the intersection just as the creature lunges forward with violent intent, it’s roared protest is drowned by the ringing in the woman’s ears as she swerves backward through traffic. At this point, most have abandoned their cars, the initial shock causing many to smash their vehicles into one another as they stared up at the sky. She wonders bitterly how many had thought this is the divine rapture that so many zealously prophesied. Breaking sharply once more and shifting back into drive, Jean guns the engine, willing it to go faster as a cacophony of bending metal and shattering glass harkened the alien’s pursuit after being denied its prize in the previous intersection. 

Risking a glance in the shuddering rearview mirror as the engine works up to a high whine while the speedometer’s needle edges the red, the woman sees the hulking beast tossing aside things in its path, raw red eyes trained on the dusty blue pick up. She needs to get out of the grid-like streets of downtown and back into the country. She needs to get back to Dione and get the hell out of dodge before this gets too bad. 

Beside her in the cupholder, Jean’s cellphone wails. Heart stuttering behind the woman’s ribs and eyes snapping back onto the road before her, she forgets about the hell beast trailing her for just a split second. It’s Tony. Pawing at the console, she somehow catches the answer button with a finger.

“Now is not a good time!” Jean shouts, hearing just how strained she is. Tony’s voice comes out tinny through the phone’s speaker, barely audible above another earth rending crunch of twisting steel as a car careens overhead and collides with the side of a bank, sending people and glass everywhere. Something that sounds like where are you comes through the phone, and the woman curses loudly, wrenching the wheel in just enough time to avoid what looked like a van hood thrown like a frisbee. 

“Somewhere between hell and high water, Tony, there’s some massive thing trying to turn my car into a paperweight!” voice breaking as she takes a turn too fast. The woman guns the engine again. Tony’s questions come out garbled before the call disconnects altogether. Jean’s hands hurt from how hard she’s gripping the steering wheel as the overpass that leads out of the city opens up in front of her. Ten more blocks, maybe. The back window explodes in a constellation of glass shards, raking across Jean’s face and nearly putting the truck onto the sidewalk. Hope so painfully bright and clear in Jean’s mind is all she can hold onto as ten blocks turn into seven, then five, then two. 

The sun disappears as if someone had flipped a switch. Leaning forward to gape up at the sky, one of the Leviathan creatures smoothly glides overhead with a mechanical scream that shatters every window on the last two blocks of Jean’s escape route. With a swipe of the massive gunmetal grey tail, the building to the woman’s left caves in, buckling into the road and nearly crushing the truck if she hadn’t hit the breaks in time. Scrambling with the catch on the seatbelt, panic grips Jean’s throat in a barbed wire fist. Debris sweeps in like a tsunami blinding her even as the stitched up monstrosity finally catches up with a triumphant bellow cut short by another explosion. 

Yanking on the truck door, the woman falls out in a heap. Ignoring the blossom of pain across her arms as glass and rubble bite deep into flesh, Jean crawls unseeing through the grey twilight cast by the collapsing world around her. Chest heaving for breath as she drags herself to the sidewalk, Jean flattens her body against a parking meter, tears streaming down her face as the soot clings to her eyes. Roughly scrubbing at grime streaked face, the woman squints through the gloom and spies the monster flailing wildly in an enraged search for it’s escaped prey. Looking around, attempting to see something more in the catastrophe, Jean locks eyes with the yawning darkness of an alleyway a hundred paces to her right. 

Shoes crunching against the pavement underfoot and body tensing for the dead sprint that she needed to accomplish to avoid being crushed by that thing, Jean eases herself up to stand behind the parking meter. Cold metal under her blood-slicked palms and pulse thundering in her ears, Jean lunges forward. Feeling the creature’s attention searing into her back after only making it a quarter of the way there, her heart seizes in her chest. The open sewer stench of the thing hurtling in pursuit like a cannonball pushes Jean to run faster, but she knows it’s not fast enough. Squeezing her eyes shut in preparation for the inevitable, the woman is left in anticipation when it doesn’t come. 

Smacking into the side of the alley and stunning herself, Jean stumbles back, unable to help the swift turn to see where the alien had vanished to.

“Hell and high water, huh?” Armor slicked with soot but still strikingly crimson in the gloom, Tony Stark’s shape approaches, and Jean almost has half a mind to throw arms around him with relief. Body sagging with the sudden outward rush of adrenaline, the telepath pushes her grimy blonde hair back from her face, blood from her palms streaking it red. Above, the mechanized screech of another leviathan reverberates down into the streets, making the dust shiver. Tony’s expressionless helmet snaps upward at the sound, and Jean’s already inching down the alleyway, ready to run. 

“You need to get out of here and either run or get back to the tower. Whatever you decide to do, be quick about it, alright?” A parting nod before a sharp whine of boosters cut through the din, and Tony disappears just as the sun begins to punch through the motes of debris hanging in the air; Jean bursts out into a street alive with chaos. 

Both unspoken and echoing off the skyscrapers, screams, and panic pierce through the telepath’s mind like spears. Feet pounding the pavement, Jean’s lungs sear from the effort. Smoke in the air makes every breath taste like pennies and charcoal. Nearly tripping over the twisted corpse of what might have been a person lying half crushed by an overturned armored van, she scrapes a knee on the pavement before regaining footing. Hands grab at her from several places all at once, throat closing up as the panic rips into her with hooked teeth. People are dying everywhere, and above that, heroes and gods are locked in a battle to save whatever survives this hellscape on the streets. 

A formation of speeders roars overhead, their wake making those fleeing below stumble or crumple to the asphalt in crying heaps. Sharp cracks of blaster fire from their weapons send cascades of detritus down on the panicking civilians. Thoughts of death, of loved ones, desperate pleas to dozens of gods in every language clang inside of Jean’s head as she wills her legs to go faster. Shoving a sobbing man aside and ignoring his yelp of surprised anguish, the telepath pushes his groping thoughts even more vehemently out of her mind. It’s so loud. There isn’t any room for any of her own hysteria to fit inside of a head that already feels ready to split open. 

Blood courses from an incessantly ringing right ear and down over the woman’s upper lip as she skids to a halt in an intersection. Fire brackets the four-way stop on the east and west sides, funneling all of the chaos down Eighth avenue toward the heart of town or back toward the bay, which is Jean’s destination. Above the wreath of fire in the distance, the woman watches as a flock of those speeders are parted like a shoal of fish by lightening. Thor’s doing, no doubt. It’s a breathtaking display as thunder and lighting crackle from a falling sky zig-zagging through the swarms of aliens, dropping them like dead birds. 

Squinting up at the shifting heavens, what looks like comets blaze across the turmoil above. Mind stalling like a flooded engine, Jean’s questions are all simultaneously answered as an armored drop pod smashes into the intersection, throwing up chunks of pavement and breaking a water mainline in a deluge. Stumbling with the aftershocks of the impact, Jean’s mind attunes to the singing radio static that can only be from the aliens overtaking the city. It sounded like nothing the woman had ever encountered before. It sounded like the end of all things that were, are, and ever will be. 

When the first sleek armored creature jumps down out of the drop pod, she’s already running. Smoke from burnt-out cars littering the street like abandoned toys and buildings buckling under the abuse of explosion after explosion makes it hard to tell one street from the next, but as long as she kept pointed north, she’d make it out. 

Bursting out onto the boardwalk wrapped around the bay’s northern coast, Jean collides with the railing’s cold steel that kept most people from jumping into the cold water below. Tremors of drop pods making landfall all over the city rumble through the abused soles of Jean’s feet. Every fiber of her body aches in tandem. Muscles screaming to just lay down and let whatever come to her. Glass and metal shards glint in the bloody ruin of her palms and forearms, and marginally moving fingers sends bolts of agony spidering over her chest. Staring down into the churning dark water of the bay, a moment passes where she sees an end. 

The water would be forgiving. Those aliens would not.

A shaking hand reaches out, leaving a gory streak on the white painted railing. It would be quick, a small voice in the back of her brain whispers. Icy tendrils of calm slither around Jean’s skull, blotting out all other sounds like black ink soaking through paper. Turning red-rimmed eyes toward the bedlam that presses in from all sides, the woman can see across the bay with its arching bridges, out toward the sprawling upper suburbia that finally opened out into the great emerald countryside. 

Down below, slate-blue waves lapped at the boardwalk struts promising tranquility. The water didn’t panic. It didn’t scream as the sky tore open, and there were no crunching sounds as it was rendered beneath wheels or feet or metal. Jean’s left foot raised to rest on the railing’s lower rung, boosting her up a few inches. It would be quick, her mind whispers again. You’ve wanted this for years. To make the noise stop for good.

A second step onto the railing. A few inches closer.

The countryside looks so very green from here. Wind wafts the far away smells of fresh wheatgrass, blowing away that acrid sooty smell of death and despair for just a heartbeat. Drying the sweat, tears, and blood streaked across the woman’s face, the momentary wind dislodges a memory from the tangle of Jean’s mind. 

***

Crickets croon in the crisp night air. Waist-high grasses framing an endless sky speckled with stardust and the occasional plane making it’s landing at LaGuardia. Head rested against the warm pillow of Dione’s bicep as they both look up into oblivion, Jean points out another constellation. She’s sure that he knows all of the constellations by now, and dozens more Jean isn’t even aware of, but he humors her none the less. Laying side by side in summer sweetgrass waiting for the meteor shower to begin.

“You’re not even looking,” she murmurs, lifting her head to gaze down at him, a grin curling the edges of her mouth even as the woman tries to pout. A deep chuckle as eyelids open lazily, Dione smiles sleepily up at Jean.

“You said that this would start almost an hour ago, cariño.” This is true. Broadcasts all that week had been giving timeline after timeline about when the most extensive shower of the season would begin. Thus far, it is apparent that all of the predictions had been wrong as the pair had been lying there for an hour and a half with nothing to show for it. Flopping back down with a soft huff, Jean grumbles in protest as Dione curls his arm so they lie face to face.

“I would say we can go back inside, but I don’t want to miss it.” her breath is warm as it ghosts across his face, and the man hums quietly, eyes already half-closed once more as he studies her face. Hand gently carding through Jean’s hair and making the woman purr softly, Dione’s lips meet hers in a slow kiss. With little effort, he rolls on top of her, a gentle breeze rustling the grasses and filling her senses with the scent of summer and the anticipation of the man above her.

“We can stay out here as long as you like. The stars won’t be going anywhere any time soon.” he offers lowly, lips grazing the skin of Jean’s throat as her palms ride along the plane of his body. The first streaks of light blur across the black velvet night as Dione makes her see stars of her own.

**

Reeling back from the railing and falling flat to the pavement, Jean’s eyes snap open as the wind rushes out of her in a broken wheeze. That vision of captivating dark, calm peace shattering against the rocks of that single memory. Blinking through the tears as the first ragged sob rattles loose, the woman stares up into a blinding blue sky. Everything that she’d fought to get out of that damn crumbling city would be for nothing if she didn’t make it home. She needed to get herself and Dione as far away from this hellscape as possible. Death could wait just a few hours longer if that’s all it meant.

Pushing up and gnashing her teeth together against every jagged pain in her body, Jean stands glaring at the bay. Not even sparing another glance, the woman runs once more toward the parking lot full of discarded cars. While it seems like cruel luck at the moment, she’s able to locate a sedan whose driver is still slumped over in the driver’s seat, forehead mashed into the endlessly blaring horn. Grimacing before hauling the man in a stained Hawaiian shirt out of the vehicle and depositing him on the cracked parking lot, Jean says a quick prayer before scrambling into the driver’s seat. 

Thankfully, the further away from the city she drove, the fewer cars choked the highway lanes. Pushing the sedan to the point the frame rattled, Jean had to yank three hula girl dash ornaments from their place and throw them into the back seat, just to help herself think. In the cracked rearview mirror, her chest tightens at the inky stain that once had been the city skyline. Leviathans swam effortlessly, raining destruction, as drop pods continued to pound into the Earth. Though it didn’t seem like the pods were restricted to the city, Jean able to spy more than a few that were barraging the suburbs as well. 

Ripping along the dirt roads into the country, Jean weighs if the family sedan would be able to take offroading. Noting that it had barely made it out of the city proper before the back bumper jumped ship, the woman decides against it as she nearly drifts into the turn that takes her to Dione’s ranch. Every mile closer, she’d gotten that barbed wire noose around her neck tightened. What if he was already gone? She would get there and do what? How many missed calls had gone to her cellphone that is still somewhere smashed on Eleventh and Broadway. Jean didn’t even have the burner phone that Steve insisted that she carry with her at all times. She’d once scoffed at his for emergencies speech like a petulant teenager. 

Biting the inside of her cheek to halt the immediate flood of relief upon seeing his car still parked in the driveway, Jean pulls the sedan into a jerky stop. Not even bothering to turn the vehicle off, she’s already sprinting into the house yelling his name. Meeting her in the kitchen with a shotgun in his grip Jean is stricken by how haggard he looks. 

“Your phone?” are the first words he’s able to bite out before she’s wrapping her arms around him. Dione feels how hard Jean is shaking, every possible emotion rattling around inside of her and ripping the woman apart. He’d been calling for nearly an hour now with no answers, straight to voicemail every time and the gnawing worry that she is already dead somewhere. He isn’t ready for that yet.

“We need to leave, get your things. Pack whatever you think you need.” Jean’s speaking fast now, thoughts derailing even as they leave her lips. There’s blood in her hair, painted across her neck, and dripping off Jean’s fingertips onto the wood floor. Dione doesn’t move right away, staring at the absolute disarray of the woman before him. Silently marveling at how she’s still even standing upright. This sparks something within Jean’s chest, and her temper rises up alongside the siren of her anxiety. 

“Dione, please, we have to move.” she urges, and something in her voice snaps him out of whatever spell that had been cast. Bustling around the house with criticality, the two ferry things back and forth to the sedan. Midway through, Jean moves the car for an easier escape when the time comes. Casting her gaze up to the sky, she begins to notice that different pods are cascading down from the wound in the heavens now. Explosions ripping through most of the city, soot smearing across the blue afternoon like the hand of death. 

Carrying the second to last trunk out to the car, Dione sees her then. Just a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, a shadow in the mirror as he passes. For a moment, he isn’t sure if the light and stress were playing tricks on him. But as he looks into the reflective glass, a cold calmness rushes into him, filling up the cracks and canyons of his worries. It washes everything out like a welcomed summer rain. 

Jean’s voice from the front door pulls Dione back, eyes snapping away from the mirror as she takes the trunk from his hands. 

“Is everything okay? Do you have all your things?” Her questions seem so meaningless now, and for a moment, he forgets to answer. He almost wants to kiss her—Jean’s brows furrow at Dione’s prolonged silence.

“Dione?” she prods, and he blinks. Shaking his head, the man gestures toward the door, already turning away and going back for the last trunk, which sits just next to the spot where he’d seen them in the mirror. Picking it up and gazing at the floor for a moment to savor that small shadow there, he turns and takes the trunk to the car. Jean is buzzing around the sedan like a frightened animal making sure everything is packed correctly for the exodus. There’s a hollowness in him now, but he isn’t afraid of it.

“Jean, I think I’ll take the other car. It would be good to have two vehicles since that one looks in disrepair.” He can feel that sharp barb of worry lance through her. Those emerald eyes were full of questions as she turns to him, taking a step forward as he does the same. Cupping her face in his hands, Dione smiles down at his lovely telepath, who’d shown him so many wonders the past months. Pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, he sighs, memorizing this one moment.

“Go, I’ll be right behind you.” Giving a gentle nudge away from him, Jean opens her mouth to protest, a detonation that seemed far too close for comfort, ripping the objection out of her lips. Pressing her mouth into a tight line and trying to ignore the wetness in her eyes, the woman gives a tight nod before turning to slam the trunk shut. Dione waits just a heartbeat longer to watch her, committing every soft shape of her before moving away.

Walking back into the house, he doesn’t flinch when the black-robed figure with their leering skull approaches him from the living room. Outside, Jean gets into the driver’s seat of the sedan, its missing bumper making it look like a battered war beast. A soft sigh leaves the man as he looks at Death’s reflection in the window, lingering behind him in its silent cold promise.

“It’s time to go.” Death murmurs, and Dione watches the sedan pull away.

“I know.” 

The blast is magnificent. Nearly throwing the sedan up the gravel drive as the shockwaves skip the vehicle like a stone across a pond. Jean’s scream is choked in her own throat as she’s thrown around inside the car. At last, skidding to a stop, she’s clawing at the door too dented in to open anymore, sobbing out the name of someone who can’t hear her anymore. Reaching out desperately for any glimmer of his thoughts left behind to only hear the roaring silence of it all.


End file.
